


a study in communication

by katsumi



Series: semantics [5]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Living Together, Minor Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 04:19:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10428930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsumi/pseuds/katsumi
Summary: “Power has been restored to the south quadrant,” K2 explains, as though appalled the rest of them are only just finding out about such important news. “Everyone is returning to their original quarters. Your room is yours again.”Beneath the table, Cassian’s hand stiffens against her thigh.Or: When the convenient reason for living together disappears, it becomes painfully obvious that they haven't really talked this through.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently it has been two months since I published part 4, which...oops? But the Rogue One digital release is this weekend and so, in celebration, here's more of these idiots being dumb! Switching to Jyn's POV for this one; thanks to the lovely people who suggested that.
> 
> This probably makes more sense if you've read the first four parts, but also can be read without! To catch you up: they're sleeping together and have had a convenient reason to be living together, but they are terrible at being responsible adult humans and therefore have not had any semblance of the talk.

“You weren’t in your room this morning,” K2 announces, walking up to the table in the mess hall without so much a hello.

 

Jyn resists growling into her porridge. One of these days, she’s going to get to eat a meal on this damn base in peace. This, clearly, is not that day.

 

K2 swivels, as if noticing Cassian beside her and Bodhi sitting across the table, and nods at them in turn. “Good morning, Cassian. Bodhi.”

 

Oh sure, greet _them_ _._ Jyn swears he does stuff like this just to fuck with her.

 

“I was in my room, actually,” she counters.

 

“At six hundred hours, you were not.”

 

“Yes, I was.”

 

“No, you were not.”

 

“I was, too.”

 

“You were not.”

 

“Oh, for the love of—”

 

She breaks off. Beneath the table, Cassian’s hand has come to rest against her thigh. He squeezes once, a quiet reassurance, and she doesn’t need to look over at him to know he’s trying to bite back a smile.

 

She groans, recollects. “I’m not sure what you want from me. I was in my room, and now I’m here. Are you sure you’re not short-circuiting?”

 

If K2 were capable of facial movement, she’s pretty sure he would be scowling.

 

“No.”

 

“No, you’re not sure?”

 

Cassian snorts.

 

“No, I’m not short-circuiting,” K2 grouses. “I’m merely stating the truth. I went to your room to find you but was unable to do so.”

 

“She was there all morning, K,” says Cassian, mild, his hand still warm against her leg. “Is something up?”

 

K2 tilts his head. “I did not mean your room, Cassian. I was speaking about Jyn’s room.”

 

They all stare at him. Given that she and Cassian have been bunking together for nearly a month—which, despite their never addressing it in public, seems to be common knowledge on base—this is all making very little sense.

 

“You’re _positive_ you’re not short-circuiting?” Jyn asks, now feeling somewhat concerned.

 

“I'm not short-circuiting,” K2 snaps. “Are you?”

 

“K—” Cassian warns.

 

“Power has been restored to the south quadrant,” K2 explains, as though appalled the rest of them are only just finding out about such important news. “Everyone is returning to their original quarters. Your room is yours again.”

 

Jyn is skilled at masking her reactions by now; she’s had years of practice. Her stomach clenches involuntarily, and her heart stutters pointlessly against her chest, but she keeps her face even. She doesn’t so much as blink.

 

Beneath the table, Cassian’s hand stiffens against her thigh.

 

“Oh,” she manages. “Okay.”

 

“You were not informed?” K2 asks.

 

“No.” The words come out tight, forced. “I was not.”

 

The silence stretches. Then Bodhi, who has been staring wide-eyed down at his tray, slowly tilts his chin up to look at the droid towering above him.

 

“Uh,” he says, clearing his throat, “excuse me. Do you need Jyn for something?”

 

“Yes,” says K2, with renewed purpose. “Chirrut would like to see you at your earliest convenience. He’s in his quarters.”

 

“Okay,” she nods. “I’ll go find him.”

 

Cassian’s hand lifts from her leg, and she’s embarrassed the urgency with which she wants to reach out and grab it, to keep it pressed tight against her. Instead, she pushes back from the table and stands, her head a little fuzzy with the effort it takes not to meet Cassian’s eye.

 

“I will go with you,” says K2, following her as she heads for the door.

 

“I know where it is,” she growls.

 

“That’s nice,” K2 responds, with infuriating pleasantry.

 

* * *

 

K2 seems content to leave her at Baze and Chirrut’s door, suggesting that he accompanied her less to be polite than to make sure she wouldn’t run away. On a normal day, this wouldn’t rankle Jyn too much, but on this day—head cloudy, spine tight—she wants to kick him for it. But she’s tried before, and the effort hurt her toes far more than it did K2’s pride, so she holds herself back.

 

Chirrut is standing with his back flush to the wall, head bent in what looks like prayer. But he lifts his neck as the door opens, smiles bright.

 

“Jyn,” he says; how her mere footsteps could have given her away, she'll never know. “Good.”

 

Baze is lying sprawled on his back on the bed in his cold-weather jumpsuit, one arm flung across his eyes.

 

“You’re late, little one,” he grunts.

 

“So late,” Chirrut continues, before Jyn has a chance to comment, “that Baze appears to have had no choice but to turn back to bed. He will blame his own drowsiness on you, no doubt.”

 

“I blame it on _you_ _,”_ Baze shoots back. He lifts the hand from his eyes and grins at Jyn. “He has been boring me to sleep with his prattle about new recruit training all morning.”

 

“He makes excuses to hide that he is getting old and feeble,” Chirrut explains, motioning Jyn to fully enter the room. With a loud grunt, Baze swings his legs over the edge of the bed, making space for Jyn to sit. She does, somewhat grateful; her limbs feel heavy this morning, strangely stiff.

 

She forces her voice to work. “Well I’m here, now. He can talk at me instead of you.”

 

Baze laughs, full-bellied.

 

“I feel I should take offense to the word _at_ _,”_ says Chirrut, though the smile on his face indicates that he takes no offense at all.

 

Jyn watches as Baze moves to stand, takes note of the way Baze’s hand lingers against Chirrut’s chest as he passes him: the quiet intimacy of two people who have been together so long, loved each other so thoroughly. The comforting familiarity, the learned pattern of it all.

 

“Why are you so petulant today?” Chirrut asks, as Baze guides him back to the now-empty seat on the bed. “You have long been aware of my enthusiasm on subjects of interest. You chose this life, you know.”

 

Just for a moment, Baze's palm brushes past Chirrut's cheek, and the longing curls deep and cold in Jyn’s stomach.

  

“I thought you would have grown out of your enthusiasm by now,” says Baze. He turns to Jyn, bows his head in a gentle nod. “Good luck with this one today.”

 

And as flat as Jyn feels, she can at least manage a smile—very close to genuine—in return. For Baze, she can always manage something.

 

Once Baze has left, Chirrut nudges Jyn with his shoulder.

 

“We had more space, back on Jedha,” he says. “He feels cramped in here, sometimes.”

 

“Yeah,” says Jyn, a little absently. “I bet.”

 

“These rooms are small for two, as I’m sure you and the Captain have noticed.”

 

Her face doesn’t move. But of course this is Chirrut, which means her carefully regulated expression is for nothing. Chirrut can still hear her quick intake of breath, no matter how soft.

 

He stays silent, and she knows him well enough by now to know she’ll have to be the one to address it, to say _something_ _,_ or they’ll never get anything done.

 

“I think I’m moving out,” says Jyn; the words are sticky in her throat. “They, uh—the power is back on in the south quadrant.”

 

Chirrut nods, processing this information.

 

“So,” Jyn continues, attempting to brighten her tone, “more space.”

 

“Yes,” Chirrut echoes. “More space.”

 

The silence lingers, heavy with words unspoken.

 

“Jyn,” says Chirrut, finally. “Please do correct me if I am mistaken. But I sense that in this moment, you will be upset regardless of what I say.”

 

She bristles on instinct, but she can’t refute him.

 

“Perhaps we should get to work,” Chirrut continues, reaching for her hand. “And I will be glad to return to this if you find yourself ready.”

 

She takes his outstretched palm in hers and, grateful that he cannot see her do it, uses her other hand to wipe at the embarrassing wetness at the corner of her eye.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, once she and Chirrut have fully coordinated their plans, Jyn leaves his quarters and takes off down the hallway, stride shaky but purposeful.

 

She needs to find Cassian.

 

Because ultimately, the issue is that whatever they are doing, whatever it is they have—they didn’t choose it. It fell upon them, the near-inevitability of warm body next to warm body, the easy excuse of being forced to share a room.

 

It’s not that she believes herself a burden. It's not that she thinks he's been praying to see her go. But to live with him by choice is a very different thing than to live with him by accident; to sleep together is a very different thing than to really be together, the way she's hoped they could be.

 

Cassian would blur those differences together, just to be considerate—just to keep her safe. But Jyn has lived too many false lives to be tolerant of more pretending.

 

She finds him just outside the mess, frowning down at his toes as he walks. Without a word, she grabs him by the arm, tugs him around the corner to a more secluded stretch of hall.

 

“Jyn?”

 

His eyes are wide, forehead creased with worry, and Jyn did not think this through: looking up at that face, knowing how soft it is first thing in the morning, bathed in cool blue light.

 

“Jyn,” he prompts. “What is it?”

 

“I—” she bites at her lip. “We need to talk.”

 

Something dark crosses his face. His mouth thins.

 

“Right now?” he asks.

 

“Yeah,” says Jyn; she doesn’t want to, but she’s running on pure adrenaline now, and she’s worried if she backs off she won’t take another chance. “Yeah, I just—I think we need to—”

 

“Can it wait?” Cassian cuts in, looking almost pained. “I have a meeting. Can we talk about this when we get—”

 

He breaks off sharp, breath heavy. But Jyn knows how that sentence was going to end, which word he chose to omit.

 

_When we get home._

 

She takes a deep breath; the creaking world is suddenly still around her, quiet.

 

“Okay,” she says, more to herself than to him. “Okay.”

 

“Jyn.” She can’t meet his eye; there’s some pleading quality in his voice she can’t quite bear. “Jyn, I promise we’ll—”

 

“Okay,” she says again, before turning quickly away.

 

* * *

 

That afternoon, while Cassian is in a meeting, she goes to his room and packs her things. It doesn’t take long; she doesn’t have much.

 

She tries not to look at the carefully made bed or at their boots placed side-by-side at the door.

 

That night, she skips dinner and bolts the door to her old (new) room. Her bed is smaller than Cassian’s, but it feels massive, being in it alone.

 

It’s not the same thing as leaving, she tells herself. She promised she wouldn't leave him, and she hasn’t; she’s still here. She's just maintaining distance.

 

She spends most of the night on her back, arms flung to her sides, staring up at the ceiling. It’s been so long since she’s even tried to spend a night in this room. Her body isn’t used to it. That’s probably why it takes so, so long to fall asleep.

 

(Jyn repeats this to herself, even though she knows deep down that’s not the reason.)

 

* * *

 

Cassian isn’t at breakfast the next morning, which might be for the best. She doesn’t want to face him like this, bleary and cold, so exhausted from a fitful sleep that every step and word feels like an effort she does not want to make.

 

She finds Bodhi in the crowd and slumps into the seat opposite him, turning immediately to her plate. For a little while, she eats in silence, and she’s quietly grateful that Bodhi allows her that space.

 

She shouldn’t be surprised that it doesn’t last long.

 

“Um,” Bodhi asks, all soft concern. “Jyn? Are you alright?”

 

Jyn grunts, shoving another piece of toast into her mouth in what she hopes is enough of a deterrent for more questions.

 

It’s not.

 

“Did you—” Bodhi swallows. Tries again: “Did you and Cassian break up?”

 

Jyn’s fork clatters to her tray. She looks up at him, unable to mask her surprise. _“_ Excuse me?”

 

Bodhi lurches back in his seat like he thinks she’s about to crawl across the table and throttle him. “I just, you both seem down? And uh, I heard you moved back to your old quarters, so I wanted to—”

 

“The term break up,” Jyn hisses, “implies that we were together.”

 

Bodhi’s eyes are so round, she can see white all the way round his irises. “But K2 said—”

 

“K2.” She barks a laugh. “You actually believe what K2 says?”

 

Bodhi’s floundering. “Yes? I mean, no? Well, not at first! K2 gives out a great deal of contracting information, actually, so I’ve mostly just been using context clues? I’m so sorry!”

 

Somewhere in the fog of her mind, Jyn recognizes that she should really back off and give Bodhi a break; none of this is his fault, and he looks on the verge of a panic attack.

 

“And what,” she asks, attempting to keep the bite from her voice, “did your context clues tell you?”

 

Bodhi looks down at his tray, defeated. A long beat passes. When he finally speaks, his voice is very quiet.

 

“I didn't mean to presume. If you broke up, I’m sorry. And if I annoyed you by asking about it, I’m sorry.”

 

Jyn softens; her shoulders unclench. Enough is already going wrong; she’s not about to fuck this up, too.

 

“No,” she says, “no, I’m the one who should be sorry, Bodhi.”

 

Bodhi glances up at her, hesitant. "You seem to care about each other very much, is all."

 

Jyn sighs. "Yeah. I—I guess we do."

 

Bodhi is quiet for a moment. “You are a very strong person, Jyn.”

 

Jyn laughs. Strong is about the farthest thing from what she feels in this moment.

 

“I’m not so sure of that.”

 

Bodhi shrugs, just a little twitch of his shoulder.

 

“Well. I am.”

 

She’s already alarmed Bodhi enough for one day, so she doesn’t lean across the table and throw her arms around his shoulders. Even if she wants to.

 

* * *

 

“You have moved out of Cassian’s quarters,” K2 says that afternoon, clunking into step next to her in the hallway. Because that’s what K2 does best: show up exactly when his presence will most make you want to murder him.

 

“Don’t talk to me,” Jyn spits.

 

“But I—”

 

“Don’t talk to me.”

 

“I suggest—”

 

“Don’t talk to me.”

 

To get her point across, she unsheathes her blaster. And while she doesn’t point it at him, he seems to get the message and takes a step back.

 

“You are aware your actions are irrational?” he asks, petulant.

 

Jyn just turns and walks away. She does not give him a rude hand gesture over her shoulder, which she considers a personal victory.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t run into Cassian at all that day. It’s not that unusual—their busy schedules don’t always collide—and plus, she knows how to track him down, if she wants to find him.

 

But she doesn’t track him down. Because he knows how to find her, too, if he wanted to. But there’s still no sight of him.

 

By the time dinner passes, the knot in her chest is painfully tight. So tight that as she lies in bed it feels like she’s being swallowed by the mattress, suffocated beneath her blankets.

 

It’s inevitable. Somewhere in the early morning hours she wrestles herself from her sheets, slips on her shoes, and storms off down the hall.

 

She hesitates in front of his door for just a moment, wondering if it might be locked. For all those weeks she’d crept in here, he’d never once locked her out. But things might be different, now.

 

With a deep breath, she presses the button. She nearly shakes with relief when the door slides open.

 

She’s expecting the room to be dark, for Cassian to be asleep on the inner edge of the bed having left just enough room for her to squeeze in beside him. She’s hoping for the silence of nights past, the comforting warmth of his chest at her back.

 

She’s not prepared to see him sitting in bed, back to the wall, arms resting on his tented knees. He looks up when she enters, and the sharp relief on his face makes her whole chest ache.

 

“You’re here,” he breathes.

 

“You’re awake,” she says, because it’s true and unexpected, because she’s not sure what else to say. It must be the wrong thing, though, because his face falls, slides back to practiced neutrality.

 

Without asking, she takes off her shoes and crawls up into the bed, leans against the wall beside him. He doesn’t stop her. He doesn’t say anything at all.

 

For a while, they just sit there in deafening silence. Jyn is still trying to work out what she wants to say— _I’m sorry_ doesn’t cover it; _I miss you_ covers too much—when Cassian slumps his head forward with a sigh.

 

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says.

 

She turns her neck to look at him. His eyes are closed.

 

“I couldn’t either,” she says. And then, to try to calm the waters just a little, she adds: “My room is really cold.”

 

But again this must be a misstep, because Cassian winces—it’s almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Acting purely on instinct, Jyn leans against him, rests her head against the slope of his shoulder.

 

He exhales, long and deep, and she nestles in closer, shuts her eyes. She steels herself.

 

“I’m going to say something,” she says.

 

She feels his shoulder tense beneath her cheek.

 

“I’m going to say something,” she repeats. “But it might come out wrong.”

 

“It’s okay,” says Cassian, but his voice is flat. “You can say it, Jyn.”

 

She nods, takes a deep breath. “I want to, well—pick you.”

 

A pause. “Pick me?”

 

“I told you,” she mutters, “I don’t know how to say—I just—I want to be with you.”

 

He’s gone very still.

 

“And live here. With you,” she adds, in case this wasn’t clear. “And keep…”

 

Her voice trails off. Cassian has shifted, lifted his head.

 

“Then why,” he asks, voice rough, “did you run?”

 

Jyn almost laughs. Because her first instinct upon hearing the question is to run from that, too. It's a practice not easily unlearned.

 

“I wanted you to pick me too,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “And I thought...well, what if you didn’t.”

 

Cassian’s hand cups her cheek, tilts her head up to look at him. He stares at her, wide-eyed and incredulous.

 

“You thought I wouldn’t?” he asks, like he can’t believe the words are coming out of his mouth. “You thought I _hadn’t already_?”

 

“It’s one thing to take me in because my room’s lost power—”

 

“Jyn.” He’s cradling her face in both hands, now, the urgency palpable in his voice. “Jyn.”

 

“I know,” she starts, shaking a little under the weight of this. “I know I probably shouldn’t have—”

 

“Be quiet,” he says, firm, “and listen to me. Jyn. I pick you, okay?”

 

Her whole chest seems to collapse in on itself.

 

“You do?"

 

His eyes are so serious, his face all hard lines.

 

“Every time, every way.” He hesitates, runs his thumb along her cheekbone. “I would have just told you, but I didn’t think you wanted me to say the words. Thought it might be too much.”

 

She leans into his palm, gives a weak smile.

 

“It still kind of is.”

 

He looks nervous for a moment, like he’s misstepped, but she’s already leaning forward to kiss him, soft and slow. He pulls her closer and she follows readily, crawling into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck, greedy for the familiar press of his stomach to hers, the way his nose bumps up against her cheek.

 

When she pulls back, she musters as much confidence as she can and whispers, “I’m going to stay.”

 

He’s smiling, eyes crinkled and bright. “We couldn’t have had this conversation before you moved all your things?”

 

“Shut up.” She’s smiling, too. “I’ll move them back. I’m going to stay.”

 

He leans his forehead against hers.

 

“Good.”

 

She kisses his cheek, pulling him even closer.

 

“Good.”

 

* * *

 

She’s helping load the U-Wing the next day, a crate of supplies heavy in her arms when she hears her name from the cockpit. Curious, she comes to a stop just out of sight on the ramp.

 

“You wish to talk about Jyn again?” K2 is asking, sounding as though Cassian has requested to dismantle him and sell him for parts.

 

“Yes.”

 

“I thought you no longer wanted to discuss Jyn with me,” says K2, in what is clearly code for _please stop discussing Jyn with me._

 

“Just—” She hears Cassian sigh. “Last time, alright? I want you to forget everything we were talking about before.”

 

“About the semantic nuances of the phrase _sleeping together_ _?”_ K2 asks.

 

Jyn almost chokes. _What the fuck, Cassian._

 

“Er—” says Cassian, “more so about living together. Jyn’s moved back in with me.”

 

“But her room is no longer without power.”

 

Cassian sighs, patient. “I know that. But we talked about it, and we've decided to live together anyways.”

 

There's something about hearing it spoken aloud—simply, with such assurance—that makes Jyn's heart wobble. She smiles, grateful that neither can see. 

 

Of course, K2 goes and ruins the moment rather quickly.

 

“Are you sure?” K2 asks. “I have been gathering data for weeks. Her behavior continues to be both unpredictable and needlessly violent. She does not seem like the ideal choice for a living companion.”

 

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Jyn says, hoisting the supply box higher on her hip and striding the rest of the way onto the ship.

 

Cassian spins to face her, blinking in surprise.

 

“I am merely looking out for Cassian’s well-being,” K2 retorts, as Jyn stacks the box atop the others.

 

“Worried I’m going to steal his stuff?” Jyn asks.

 

“I was not before,” grumbles K2. “I am now.”

 

“Relax, K,” says Cassian, seeming to recover. “It’s fine.”

 

“I mean,” says Jyn, “you say that now, but I might steal your stuff. I’m not ruling it out.”

 

“Do you see?” K2 nearly yelps.

 

Cassian glares at her, pointed. “Stop." He turns to K2. "Both of you.”

 

K2 holds up both hands in mock-surrender. “Fine. Am I once again to keep this information regarding your arrangement secret?”

 

Cassian opens his mouth to answer, but Jyn gets there first.

 

“No,” she says, with a shrug she hopes comes off as nonchalant. “It’s fine if people know.”

 

Even though she doesn’t look directly at him, she can see Cassian’s face out of her eye: the way shock gives way to relief, the quick dip of his head as he tries to hide his smile.

 

K2 nods, seeming satisfied with this response. “Anything else I am to be aware of?”

 

“No,” says Jyn. “That’s it. Thanks.”

 

“Understood,” says K2, moving towards the door. “I will assist with the rest of the cargo.”

 

He clanks his way off the ship, and Cassian steps toward Jyn.

 

“He really does mean well,” he says, soft.

 

“Well I’m glad you think that,” says Jyn, “because you’re the one who has to spend the next two weeks alone with him.”

 

“Ten days,” Cassian corrects. He’s right in front of her now, hands clasped behind his back. “I can handle ten days.”

 

“Good,” says Jyn. “You better.”

 

And then—because he’s right here and because he’s leaving soon and because she _can—_ she pushes herself up and kisses him, right there in the open doorway. Cassian makes an odd, choked sound before he snaps back together and kisses her back, tugging her firmly against him.

 

“Be safe,” she whispers, once she pulls away.

 

Cassian’s eyes are still closed; he looks a little dazed.

 

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “You too.”

 

“Not much to worry about on my end,” says Jyn. “I’m just going to be here, training recruits. Possibly stealing things from your room, now that K2’s put the idea in my head.”

 

He chuckles, soft. “Our room."

 

This time, she doesn't even try to mask her smile.

 

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Our room.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much, friends. :) This was a blast, and your encouragement has been amazing.
> 
> [leralynne](http://leralynne.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you'd like to come and wail about these nerds with me :)


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